


words i want to hear

by bellowbacks



Series: Steve/Bucky Flash Fics [9]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky has OCD, Flashbacks, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 12:34:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14769722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellowbacks/pseuds/bellowbacks
Summary: Bucky staggered forward against the bathroom sink. His thoughts were all consuming- the Wikipedia list of confirmed Winter Soldier kills was damning. His hand clenched into so tight of a fist that a chunk of whatever the counter was made out of cracked and fell to rest between his feet.A small glimpse into Bucky's method of coping.





	words i want to hear

Bucky woke up to a cold, empty bed and two hands that felt bloodstained and dangerous. He remembered his dream; he always remembered his dream. That didn’t mean he liked it. 

He also faintly remembered Steve whispering something against his neck before he got up to go out with Nat for some appearance, an interview or something, and then leaving their warm bed empty and leaving Bucky to his nightmares. 

They weren’t even nightmares, not really. They were all memory, more the Soldier’s than his, but still his own hands, his own eyes, and his own hair, tickling the back of his neck. Bucky’s neck twitched as it did in real time and he grabbed a hair tie from the dresser next to their bed and pulled it back as quickly as he could. 

He slid out of bed and went into the bathroom, turning on only the hot tap and using the scalding water and too much soap to scrub his hands, one flesh one metal, as clean as possible. He knew, logically, that there could be no remnants of a murder that happened 46 years ago still touching the surface of his skin, but he felt that this helped all the same. His psychiatrist said that it was part of the obsessive compulsive disorder that he had been diagnosed with. Bucky just called himself a mess with poor coping mechanisms. 

His head was pounding, something that only ever reminded him of the chair and every single wipe. 

Maria Stark. Howard Stark. John F. Kennedy. Neal Tapper. Susan Scarbo. Harry Baxter. Andre Rostov. Jasper Sitwell. Jack Monroe-

Bucky staggered forward against the bathroom sink. His thoughts were all consuming- the Wikipedia list of confirmed Winter Soldier kills was damning. His hand clenched into so tight of a fist that a chunk of whatever the counter was made out of cracked and fell to rest between his feet. 

A strand of hair swung into his view and Bucky was sent directly into a flashback of tucking it behind his ear as he sat behind a sniper rifle, watching a car slowly make its way down the street parallel to the building he occupied. Bucky tried to catch his breath, but he ended up just clutching at his chest with his flesh arm and stumbling out of the bathroom and towards the kitchen. 

There was a pair of scissors in a drawer that Bucky used often to cut things open, and he found himself grabbing those and immediately reaching back for his ponytail. He leaned over the sink and as he opened the blades, his head seemed to clear. Bucky hacked at the base of his ponytail, cutting it off in four messy chops and dropping it into the trash can beside him. He ran his metal fingers through the back of his hair, shorter than it had been since the 50’s, and he let out a full breath. 

He was not their tool anymore. 

Bucky walked back into the bathroom on legs that weren’t as steady as they tended to be. He peered at himself in the mirror and pulled the strand that always fell into his eyes out, cutting it off at about an inch from the root. The sides of his head still had long chunks and his brain supplied that he still looked like him, the soldier. The Asset. 

Maria Stark. Howard Stark. John F. Kennedy-

Bucky cut another chunk of hair from his head and threw it into the trash can. He wished he could burn it. He kept going, cutting off the longest parts on the sides and cutting the top to be shorter until none of his dark brown hair was longer than two inches. It looked bad, sure, but Bucky felt lighter. Freer. 

He ran his fingers through it, making sure he didn’t miss any spots, and then he rinsed the bits out of the sink that hadn’t made it into the trash. Then, he looked at himself in the mirror again, before pulling out his phone and finding one of the few pictures online of himself before HYDRA. Bucky looked the most like himself that he had since the fall, and it felt good. The arm HYDRA had given him was gone, replaced with one crafted by friends, and now his long hair, his disguise, was gone too. 

He was Bucky Barnes. Not the Winter Soldier. 

After a few minutes, Bucky left the bathroom and walked to Sam’s room. He knocked quickly, staring at the bottom of the door. 

The door swung open after a few seconds and Sam frowned. 

“What did you do to your hair?” he asked immediately. 

Bucky shrugged. “You cut your own, right? Or at least clean it up sometimes?” he asked without explaining himself. Sam was still frowning, but he nodded and moved away from the door so that Bucky could enter. 

“Yeah, I do. You want me to do yours?” Sam asked. Bucky nodded and looked around the room. He had only been in here a few times, as he, Sam, and Steve tended to hang out in the living room, but it was nice. It was plainly decorated with pictures of family and old friends, Steve, Nat, even Bucky taped on the walls. Bucky knew Sam was military, so the plain decor and flat colors made sense. He was the same way. 

Sam gestured to a chair while he got something out of a drawer in his closet. Bucky just closed his eyes and tried to remember a time before his existence seemed to boil down to a list of names on a Wikipedia page, ending with “An estimated 400+ unknown victims including soldiers, spies, civilians, and possible misattributed crimes.” 

As Sam cleaned up the mess he had made of his hair, Bucky remembered Steve taking a pair of scissors and carefully snipping right around his ears when he was drafted. He remembered Ethel being charmed by his uniform and making him promise to come home safe ‘for Steve, he needs you’. He remembered Steve curling up on their old, moth eaten chair to draw but falling asleep to the rain outside their apartment within minutes instead. He remembered James Buchanan Barnes and his sister Rebecca, he remembered the feel of Steve’s too big jacket, he remembered, and he felt alive. 

“I think I’m all done,” Sam said after a little bit. Bucky opened his eyes and dusted his face and neck off before ducking into Sam’s bathroom to take a look. It was too short to look like it did when he lived with Steve, but it was clean and even and hair grows. 

“Thanks, Sam,” Bucky said and ran his fingers through it. His head felt so much lighter, both physically and mentally. He felt clearer. 

“Any time,” Sam said and rubbed Bucky’s head. Bucky rolled his eyes. “Friday, help me clean up,” Sam said as Bucky walked out the door to go sit on the couch and watch some dumb reality show like he tended to do every day. 

Today, he was watching Chopped. It was easy and fun, and he had a good time yelling at the competitors to “just start plating already!” and coming up with his own recipes for the secret ingredients. 

He watched an episode and a half before Steve got home. Nat walked in first, tossing her jacket over the back of the couch and laughing at something. 

“Oh, I’ve seen this one,” she said and gestured to the screen without looking at Bucky. Bucky just hummed an answer. He hadn’t expected to be anxious to see Steve again now, but here he was. 

Steve came around the back of the couch but stopped approaching when he laid eyes on Bucky. “You cut your hair,” he said simply. His eyebrows knit together in the center. Bucky stood up and faced him.

“Yeah,” he said and rubbed the short side with his right hand. 

“Did you do it yourself? Steve asked and reached out to cup Bucky’s face, running his thumb over his light stubble. His touch instantly soothed Bucky, making him feel safe. 

“Sam helped,” Bucky said with a little shrug, and then Steve was kissing him. He kissed him hard for a few seconds, and then he pulled him into a tight hug. 

Bucky hugged back instantly, closing his eyes and letting himself be weary and tired in the arms of one of the strongest men alive. Then, Steve sniffled against his shoulder. Bucky bit his lip to keep from teasing him. 

“You look so much like yourself,” Steve mumbled into Bucky’s shirt. 

“I didn’t want anything leftover from them anymore,” Bucky replied and then kissed the side of Steve’s head. Steve pulled away and ran his fingers through the short hair on the top of Bucky’s head. 

“You look incredible,” Steve said with a smile. If his eyes were red, Bucky didn’t say anything. 

And if Steve touched Bucky’s head more often than usual for the rest of the day, Bucky didn’t mind.

**Author's Note:**

> i've been thinking about writing this for DAYS now and now i slammed it out in like an hour, so here! thanks for reading! 
> 
> as always im on twitter @ peachfutch talkin about steve and bucky 
> 
> title from put your head on my shoulder by paul anka


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